Jazrok taps the shiny buttons and meaningless baubles on his uniform with his club and says "Clearly House Caldrana has need of the more highly decorated unit." He winks at Lord Jaezred and lazily salutes with his club. "Reporting for duty, sir."
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Jazrok gives a ridiculously ostentatious bow and says to the kobolds, "We'll hunt long and hard then."
Jazrok looks at the duergar appraisingly. "Clearly we'll need a passcode. Something inconspicuous like "definitely nothing suspicious happening here!""
"That's what I been saying since we got here, stay on their good side. No qualms from me."
Jazrok shrugs and follows along.
Jazrok looks down at his ill-fitting drummerboy uniform and looks back at the ratfolk incredulously. "Someone's gotta keep the drow laughing."
Jazrok nods to Torsten in acknowledgement. "You hit hard, and you know some tricks. You'll be around here for a while unless someone gets a lucky hit on you and takes you out. Then your fate is up to the whims of the crowd, no?"
Jazrok opens his mouth to say something snarky but, realizing that the trainer has him dead to rights, he thinks better of it and just nods. He does a few stretches then walks over to join what seems to be a growing group.
Jazrok makes a stupid grin and lightly bops himself on the head 5 times while hopping from foot to foot. He turns back to the trainer and says "There, hit the dummy 5 times, good? No? Alright, fine." Then he lashes out at the training stand.
Jazrok dropped into a fighting stance and was immediately blindsided by Thorsten's attack, leaving him staggered and reeling but not dropped. He smiled as the attendant approached, woozily saying "Just couldn't keep your hands off me, could you?" Once healed up to better shape, he straightens up and nods to the trainer. "Bring it on."
Jazrok sits up and grins at Torsten. "Good hit, well played. You're always flinging things around with your mind, never expected that from you." He grabs his club and stands up again, ready to fight.
Tosten's ferocious throw laid Jazrok out flat, a look of surprise slipping quickly into unconsciousness and the hobgoblin doesnt get up again.
Jazrok grins and tries to do a repeat performance.
But the club misses by a hands' breadth.
Thanks! I figured it was a good investment up front for those occasions that he manages to hit, and pretty fitting for the campaign. Not sure that I'll end up going much further with the intimidate shenanigans though, those can get pretty feat-intensive.
Jazrok hustles over to Thorsten and swings his club overhand with two hands, letting out a ferocious battle cry but aiming away from the flatfooted duergar's vitals.
Jazrok smiles and flips his drumstick in his hand. "No problem"
I'm sitting right smack dab in the middle of Dorian's path, which could affect my posting rate in the upcoming days. Bot if necessary, and I'll be back when I can.
"Ah, the mighty dragon. We were just discussing our lot here. How did you come to be here? Were you another troublesome requisition on the part of the drow?"
Jazrok chuckles back at her story. "Must be handy, having a god of battle answer your call." He looks over at her question and taps himself on the chest. "What I've got, that's all me. Nevermind the how. My tribe liked that well enough, brought us victory when we'd been starving and all. It bought me position, comfort. Our shaman, well, he didn't like all that. Liked the gods better. So here I am, fighting in the dark. Spent a stint with another family, they liked my stories. Right up until the stories had 'em dying." He looks up at the ceiling again, feigning thoughtfulness. "Lot of troublemakers about here, funny that."
Jazrok takes a moment to savor the warm air in the Caldarium, then steps into the hot water, sitting down and laying his head back to relax. "You fight well. What brought you to the arena?" He turns his head slightly in Serisa's direction.
"Yes! We live as long as they like seeing us fight, that's exactly it. I got lucky last time, there was a lower rung I could catch on, but this is as low as it gets. And that's what our companions don't seem to understand yet. We need to keep the drow watching." he starts to gesticulate wildly with one hand while standing up and sloshing over towards Thorsten. "That's the trick." He claps the waving hand on the duergar's shoulder. Under the waterline, he points a finger on the other hand and drives the nail into Thorsten's side underneath his ribs, hard enough to make a point. Then he slogs out of the bath and heads toward the Caldarium.
Jazrok chuckles. "I didn't take you for a volunteer, no. Me? My old tribe's shaman was scared I'd challenge him for leadership, so here I am in the underdark. The drow found me and, ah...gave me a place to stay. Made me tell stories, tried to turn me into a jester. They didn't like the stories I told after that. And here I am." He splashes his face with water and shakes off the droplets. "There are a lot of battles to go yet before we win this war."
Jazrok sets to washing the arena off himself in the tepidarium. He nods at Torsten when he walks in. The hobgoblin washes efficiently in silence before letting himself relax into the water. Once he settles in he finally pipes up. "What brought you to the arena, Torsten?"
Jazrok heads to the baths to wash off the dirt, grime, and blood and relax.
Jazrok takes off his armor and hands it over and slips his drumstick into the tensioning straps on his drum and casually continues on, although he doesn't object if the attendants take the stick from him.
He gives a stiff bow to the high priestess. "Mistress Volatexia, indeed we are. Did you observe our skirmish? I trust that House Volatexia is pleased with House Rasivrein's generous gift."
After congratulating the oread, the wild enthusiasm quickly melts from the hobgoblin's face. He takes stock of the group and quickly singles out Drakhn. "Gavin got lucky, but you'll wear the scar well. This will help." He chants a few wordless syllables and taps out a short rythm on the kobold's scales then presses his hand firmly down on the sword wound, magically stitching the flesh back together.
Jazrok turns his back to the crowd and joins his squad walking towards the temple. "Indeed, well done. The crowd liked us, and you all saw that THAT, just as much as our fighting skill, is what's going to keep you alive. Even if you fall, that can keep you alive." He claps Serisa on the shoulder. "You popped Laavi's head like a melon. That was spectacular."
Jazrok tears open the front of his uniform and lets out a victory cry for the crowd.
Jazrok beats out a quick crescendo to end his performance for the fight. The last beat comes as a crack to the back of Navarra's head to put her down.
Jazrok continues to beat on his drum then charges at Navarra, aiming to hit her on the rebound as he continues to drum. He aims for her flanks, looking to inflict pain more than damage her.
If that hits, he'll make an intimidate check as a free action with the enforcer feat and a performance check as a swift action.
Jazrok stops his drumbeat as Aulanirra begins speaking. When she's done, he raises his drumstick in the air and casts adoration. Once the battle begins and Navarra runs over, he begins pounding a rapid beat on his drum and let's out a primal scream, beginning his inspired rage and letting the rage take him.
Inspired Rage text for reference for those who would like to accept it: If a raging song affects allies, when the skald begins a raging song and at the start of each ally’s turn in which they can hear the raging song, the skald’s allies must decide whether to accept or refuse its effects. This is not an action. Unconscious allies automatically accept the song. If accepted, the raging song’s effects last for that ally’s turn or until the song ends, whichever comes first. Inspired Rage (Su) At 1st level, affected allies gain a +2 morale bonus to Strength and Constitution and a +1 morale bonus on Will saving throws, but also take a –1 penalty to AC. While under the effects of inspired rage, allies other than the skald cannot use any Charisma-, Dexterity-, or Intelligence-based skills (except Acrobatics, Fly, Intimidate, and Ride) or any ability that requires patience or concentration. (Unlike the barbarian’s rage ability, those affected are not fatigued after the song ends.) If an ally has her own rage class ability (such as barbarian’s rage, bloodrager’s bloodrage, or skald’s inspired rage), she may use the Strength, Constitution, and Will saving throw bonuses, as well as AC penalties, based on her own ability and level instead of those from the skald (still suffering no fatigue afterward). However, inspired rage does not allow the ally to activate abilities dependent on other rage class abilities, such as rage powers, blood casting, or bloodrager bloodlines; the ally must activate her own rage class ability in order to use these features.
"Rabble would be a better description for our sorry little unit. We're a spear's reach a better lot than them, though, I'd dare say."
The hobgoblin barks out a harsh laugh, then falls deeper into character, making the best of the absurdity of their costume and their situation.
He waits a beat, then says in Dwarven,
in Dwarven: "I like your spirit. Take it out on them when the drum picks up in earnest."
Jazrok grinds his teeth at Serisa calling his words 'suggestions,' then grins and taps the pushbroom bristles riveted to his helmet with his drumstick. "Orders, soldier. Only one General here."
Jazrok begins a slow, ominous drumbeat after Corazan makes his remarks and keeps a sharp eye on First Daughter Aulannira to make one last drumbeat as she's about to stand. In the meantime, he joins the tactical planning. "Agreed about Gavin, he's amusement and he'll keep the crowd happy. No real threat. Take down Caladrel before he becomes one, and then we focus down the rest. I start my real performance once our lines meet. Take the rage or leave it, but you're all smart to last this long so you'll take it. If you get the kill order, remember to give them a spectacle.
Torsten the winking dwarf.
Bring on the violence, and I'm okay with a moderate amount of suggestive themes that fade to black as well before the descriptions get too detailed. I'd prefer that the sexual themes not become the focus of the campaign. Also, do you mind if we make some more minor character tweaks? If like to change out the hobgoblin racial trait Authoritative for Fearsome, and swap my fcb from hp to another skill point.
This is admittedly my first try with the class but I'm pretty experienced with playing in-your-face bards. I'm excited to see how it turns out though.
A hobgoblin Skald. As someone who needs Con, and doesn’t have enough, I am *very* happy to see this. Happy to oblige. You bring the righteous indignation, I'll provide the constructive outlet. An Oread Warpriest. A close combat Brawler and our only source of healing. Hey if you're not looking to me to pick your bleeding carcass off the sand, that's great. But for the record, I can. For the record. And finally a kobold bloodrager. Which simply put, wins the cool points. No disagreements here.
Well if I'm gonna be on the list of poor sods to die in the arena, I could think of much worse company for it. This'll be an interesting one. I'm sure we'll delight, but I have a good feeling we'll surprise with ferocity as well. Pleasure to be here.
Jazrok starts a drum roll to build anticipation. Good luck would have kept us out of the pits in the first place.
@Jazrok: That's what the free hand is for. :) Okay, okay, fine, it has just as much to do with losing martial weapon proficiency. While you were all playing with the blade, I studied the DRUM.
I considered going with the scizore but I didnt think it would be very good for my drum.
Here's Jazrok's background, also posted to this profile. Background: Jazrok
Jazrok had a great life as a young hobgoblin soldier in the Spine Thresher tribe. Until he didn't. The Chitterwood Caverns provided protection and ample opportunity to raid surrounding villages, and Jazrok excelled at getting many of his peers and dozens of goblins to follow his lead. As his drum roared, rage would well up within the members of his training squad and drive them on to greater violence. His first raids brought back food and scalps, and Jazrok reaped the rewards. There was nothing that he couldn't do, especially after his mastery of the mystical arts began to manifest in spellcasting. His spells kept him fighting on his feet in battle and improved his position among the tribe, until Grazbite the shaman came to praise the young officer and witnessed his magic firsthand. The arcane arts are anathema amongst the hobgoblin legions, and that was that. Jazrok's comfortable life was over, and he was cast deep into the caverns that the hordes called home. Jazrok enjoyed a comfortable life as an entertainer owned by House Rasivrein. Until he didn't. Wandering deep under the Chitterwood Carverns, Jazrok would soon enter the drow-patrolled territories surrounding Zirnakaynin. A House Rasivrein slave caravan picked him up on the way into the city and threw him in with the blood stock for the gladiator pits, but the resourceful young hobgoblin distinguished himself with the wild stories he would weave. Iliakoth, the youngest daughter of the caravan boss, took a liking to his tales. Jazrok found himself bound for the Rasivrein palace rather than the blood pits he had been promised to. In the palace he was a curiosity. The drow mocked him as an ugly, pitiful caricature of their own perfection. His tales, however, kept his matron and the rest of the family entertained. He recited coarse verses on the fanged heroes of the goblinblood wars and wove them into epic narratives. As that material wore thin, he began to adapt other stories of ancient battles into an ongoing story of a mythical hobgoblin general. As he was Iliakoth's favorite, he was fed and clothed well and slept as comfortably as any slave in Zirnakaynin, especially on the rare evenings that a more curious member of the household would call upon him. At times he would be forced to act out the deeds that he recited against other enslaved. Eventually, his stories grew tired and the drow grew bored. The mockery of the drow grew more fierce as they became bored, and Jazrok's gratefulness at avoiding the gladiator pits cooled off and congealed into resentment, shattered pride, and cold hatred. The mythical hobgoblin general of his stories soon began to rout implausible armies of dark elves against impossible odds. Iliakoth's patience with the hobgoblin's defiance was shortlived and he soon found himself made a gift to House Volatexia's arena. To complete his shame, he arrived at the pits in an ill-fitting Isgeri drummer boy uniform with a crude general's crest fashioned to the helm. The gladiator pits had claimed him at last.
@Jazrok: Option 1 would work quite well, I feel. Perfect. That helps to inform his backstory as well. Thanks!
In terms of weapons, I statted up Jazrok as a war drummer skald, which are proficient with simple weapons and a get abilities that function around clubs. He's a hobgoblin, and in terms of peregrinus styles I would typically think of hobgoblins wielding martial weapons rather than clubs, lacking racial Weapon Familiarity. So I can see a few options for arming him: 1: A more mocking style of peregrinus where the proud hobgoblin warrior has been dressed up in a little drummer boy fashion.
Do any of those work, or there there other alternate solutions? |